


Soak

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 23:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gimli enjoys Erebor’s hot springs again.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 8
Kudos: 170





	Soak

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

After a hard day’s work—which Gimli always does despite his newly revered status—it feels _delicious_ to sink into warm water. Of all the things he lacked on the quest of the ring, hot springs might’ve been the things that he missed most. Baths were too infrequent then, and while they still managed well enough, a quiet river in a forest is nowhere near as soothing as the bubbling pits of heated water deep in the bowels of a mountain. Gimli enjoys them whenever he can, like most of his people.

The main caves are large and sprawling, renovated even wider since he left, and new sconces have been added to bolster the iridescent yellow-orange light. The atmosphere is stuffy, dark: _perfect_. Gimli slips into one of the smaller ponds near the very edge, where he can see the damp walls glisten with rising steam. Almost all the pools are filled, some with one lone dwarf, some with half a dozen, and some rest peacefully while others chatter away. Gimli leans back against the washed-smooth stone and listens to passing conversations. When he was younger, his eyes would always be open, in the hopes of catching someone handsome getting in or out of the opaque surface. Now he’s seen true beauty at its very peak, and he’s no longer so thirsty for flashes of Dwarven skin. 

It isn’t that dwarves are ugly by any stretch of the imagination. Gimli appreciates a bit of bulging flesh, a bit of coarse, dark hair, but his mind has something more specific in it. It’s times like this, immersed in pleasurable heat, that Gimli’s mind drifts off to the friends he met on his journey. Or rather, one friend in particular. 

Then he hears someone whisper, “Is that an _elf_?” And his eyes spring open. 

A tall figure emerges from the stairs, ducking down to fit within the cavern. His long hair spills across his shoulders, pale blond but washed a bright gold in the flickering firelight. It’s as though he’s been summoned by Gimli’s thoughts. They’d promised to visit one another, of course, but he hadn’t thought they would do so quite so soon.

Legolas spares no glances for the naked dwarves lounging all around him. The dwarves, on the other hand, have quite a lot to say about his clothed figure—Gimli catches all sorts of unflattering gossip, degrading Legolas’ bony frame, his lanky limbs, the utter lack of curls in his hair. Gimli would scold the speakers for it, except he’s too busy ogling the vision drifting towards him. Legolas spots Gimli in seconds, and he picks his way gracefully through the scattered pools as he reaches the back. 

Then he greets, “Hello, my friend,” and Gimli’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t miss the way that Legolas’ eyes dip down his chest, lingering on the broad expanse of his naked shoulders. His beard covers quite a bit, but Legolas must know what lies beneath. Legolas all but purrs, “May I join you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Gimli chuckles. And then he gets to watch, awe-struck, as Legolas slowly peels the tight-fitted clothes from his gorgeous body. In Gimli’s peripherals, he can see other dwarves shielding their eyes, turning away, or outright scoffing. Legolas pays them all no mind. His eyes stay fixed on Gimli as he drops his tunic to the floor and elegantly pushes down his tights.

For one glorious moment, he stands there, naked as the day that he was born, long, and lithe, and beautiful. He’s too pale, too skinny, too hairless, but Gimli wouldn’t change a thing about him. Then Legolas sticks his food inside the water, shivers from the heat, and slinks down inside. 

The water doesn’t cover nearly as much on him. It rises to his hips while he gathers up his hair, twining stray strands around the rest to keep it above the surface. When he’s finished, he sidles close, and says, “I have missed you.”

Gimli doesn’t care what the other dwarves have to say. He leans in to give his elf a deep kiss and thoroughly enjoys his evening.


End file.
